


The Bedtime Story

by Life_on_Vega



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 16:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5749993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Life_on_Vega/pseuds/Life_on_Vega
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every night, Toriel reads Frisk a bedtime story. Unlike other nights, tonight's bedtime story comes with a moral.</p><p>...*A* moral, not necessarily a good one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bedtime Story

**Author's Note:**

> They/them pronouns are used for Frisk in this story.

On the first day of living with Toriel, Frisk had thought that they could get away with staying up as long as they wanted, since there was no sunset or sunrise in the Underground. Unfortunately, they had forgotten about the existence of clocks, and Toriel had Frisk in bed at 8:30 PM. The next night, Frisk gave a few half-hearted protests about bedtime (they didn’t feel sleepy _at all!_ ), and Toriel offered to read bedtime stories to help Frisk sleep. That sounded like a good idea to Frisk, since they liked being around Toriel, and it let them stay up for a few more minutes. Every night, Toriel would pick a new book from the shelf, and read fairytales with daring heroes and scheming villains. They were much like human fairytales, except that every character was a monster.

At night, the routine was for Toriel to read books by the fire, while Frisk drew pictures at the table. Once Frisk began yawning, that was Toriel’s cue to look at the clock, exclaim about the time, and usher Frisk to bed. By now, Frisk had stopped grumbling about it, since they had gotten used to becoming sleepy at this point in the night.

Toriel turned on the lamp in the bedroom and reached for a nearby stool. Frisk climbed into bed, and turned to look at Toriel, who now was sitting on the low stool, her hands folded in her lap.

“Are you not going to tell me a story tonight?” asked Frisk, tilting their head to one side.

“No, child, I am, but this isn’t a story that’s in one of the books on the shelf,” said Toriel. “However, it is one of my favorites. Would you like to hear it?”

Frisk nodded, then scooted deeper into the sheets, resting their head on the pillow and watching Toriel. Toriel cleared her throat, and began.

“This story happens many, many years ago, when monsters lived on the surface. We were everywhere, in those days, and we all lived in our own communities.

“There was one village of monsters who all lived in grass houses, for that material was easy to come by. They were ruled over by a very greedy king, who of course had the largest grass house in the village.”

“Was that King Asgore?” asked Frisk, resting their head on their arm.

“No, my child. Asgore is a miserable creature, but at least he isn’t greedy,” Toriel replied, frowning briefly. She shook her head. “In any case… where was I? Ah, yes. So, the king of this village was a very greedy monster. He had a very fine throne that was carved from heavy wood, and he was very proud of it. But one day, he decided that this wooden throne didn’t show his majesty enough. So, he ordered his subjects to make him a new throne out of bronze. It took them a week, but they did it. They presented it to their king, and he was satisfied. The king put his old throne into the attic of his grass house.”

“Grass houses have attics?” Frisk raised an eyebrow.

“Ah, you’re very observant! As I said before, this king had the largest and fanciest grass house in the village.” Toriel nodded once to herself and continued, “So, the king was happy with his bronze throne for a while. But then he heard about kings in faraway lands, who had even fancier thrones. So he called his subjects together again, and he ordered, ‘Make me a throne made of silver!’ His subjects sighed, but they did as they were told. After a week, they gave him the silver throne, and he was satisfied once again. Now, where do you think the king put his old, bronze throne?”

“In the attic,” Frisk answered.

“That’s right! He put the bronze throne in the attic again, next to the heavy wooden one. The king was very pleased with his new, silver throne, and thought that there was no king in the world who was more majestic than him. But then, after a time, he heard that there were rulers who had even larger, and fancier, and more expensive thrones, and he grew very jealous. So, he called his subjects once more, and commanded, ‘Make me a throne made of gold! And make sure that it’s inlaid with the finest jewels!’ His subjects grumbled at this, but they had to follow his orders. It took them two weeks, but finally, they finished it. It was a beautiful, golden throne, embedded with rubies and sapphires. The king had moved his old, silver throne to the attic of his grass house, and put it next to the other two thrones.

“His subjects pushed the throne into position, and the king was very pleased. But all this time, he had been ignoring the bend in his ceiling. Just as he sat down on his golden throne, the ceiling cracked in two, and the wooden, bronze, and silver thrones that he had stored in the attic tumbled down. All of the thrones landed on top of him, and the greedy king was instantly turned to dust.

“Now,” said Toriel, smiling, “what do you suppose the moral of this story is?”

Frisk thought for a moment. “Don’t be greedy?”

“That’s a good lesson to learn, but that’s not quite it,” said Toriel.

“Be happy with what you have?” said Frisk.

“That’s not the moral, either, but also good to know.”

Frisk was silent. “I give up,” they sighed.

“All right,” said Toriel, her smile growing even wider, “the moral of this story is… _Kings who live in grass houses shouldn’t stow thrones!_ ”

Frisk sat up in bed and stared at Toriel in shock.

“That’s _awful!_ ” cried Frisk, their eyes wide.

Toriel tried to stifle her giggling with a hand, but soon, she leaned back and guffawed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, my child, but that story _is_ my favorite, and…” she looked at Frisk’s face, snorted, and started laughing again.

“How _could_ you?” said Frisk. In spite of themselves, a smile was growing on their face.

After a few moments, Toriel’s laughter finally subsided into chuckling.

“Well, would you like to hear a different story?” she asked.

“Ohhh, no,” moaned Frisk, pulling the covers over themselves, “not if it’s going to be another pun.”

“All right,” said Toriel. She leaned forward and hugged Frisk. “Good night, my child – sleep well.”

As Toriel turned off the light and left the room, Frisk could hear her snickering.

* * *

Frisk and Sans were sitting behind the ‘dog stand in Hotland. As soon as Frisk had spotted the short skeleton, they had rushed over to give him a hug. (Sans had grown stiff for a moment, but he had returned the hug with a “Nice to see you, too, kiddo.”) After Sans set out a small “on break” sign on the counter, Frisk had described everything that had happened since they made it to Hotland – meeting Alphys and Mettaton, surviving a quiz show, and leaping over gaps with steam vents. Once they finished, Frisk took Sans up on his offer of a hot dog. After rejecting one that Sans had made with a water sausage, he relented and gave them one made with a _real_ sausage. Frisk asked about how Papyrus was doing, since he hadn’t called in a while. Sans’s eyes lit up (literally – Frisk saw them glow brighter for a second) and he talked all about living with Papyrus as Frisk ate.

“You know, I’ve really gotta find some different bedtime stories for Papyrus. Peek-a-Boo with Fluffy Bunny is gettin’ kinda old.” Sans tilted his ketchup bottle up for another drink, but squinted as only a few flecks of ketchup spurted out.

Frisk munched on the last bit of their hot dog slowly and swallowed. A grin spread on their face.

“I’ve got a bedtime story, if you wanna hear it. I think you’d really like it.”

“Oh, really?” said Sans, setting the ketchup bottle down. He rested his head on one hand. “Shoot.”

“Okay,” said Frisk, with a mischievous smile, “once upon a time, when monsters lived on the surface, there was a village full of monsters who all lived in grass houses…”

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought of this story! I'd be happy to hear your feedback. (Or any other long-winded puns!)


End file.
